


It Takes Time

by velocitygrass



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Restaurants, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-05
Updated: 2008-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1686488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney and patience are unmixy things. While they wait in a restaurant, John has to take drastic measures to make the wait bearable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to neevebrody for pointing out to me what I really wanted to write. You're making my fics so much better :) I still messed with it afterwards though. This is for the BOI 08 Ladies! It doesn't fit berlinghoff79's illustration 100%, but at least this version has some sex in it *g*
> 
> Posted for McSheplets challenge #18: A matter of time

It took about three seconds for Rodney to complain for the first time. "God, I hope the food will be better than the decorations."

"Rodney, relax."

They were on a one-week leave, a couple of days of which had been spent on the Midway station (although they'd used the time _very_ well on their way to Earth and John was sure they'd do the same on the way back). Then there was the briefing at the SGC, visiting Dave, visiting Jeannie, all of which didn't leave them a lot of time to themselves.

They were led to a small table at the back of the restaurant.

Rodney began ordering the second he sat down. "And no citrus, unless you want me writhing on the floor and suing you out of existence."

John smiled apologetically at the waiter and ordered for himself.

"I hope this won't take too long," Rodney said, already looking back towards the kitchen, even though the waiter couldn't have even relayed their order at this point.

John leaned forward and put his hand over Rodney's. Rodney stilled and looked at John's hand on his.

They never got to do this on Atlantis, which was why John had dragged Rodney out of their hotel room in the first place.

Rodney turned his hand around and stroked John's before beginning to play with the napkin.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" John asked, trying to distract him.

Rodney gave him a look. Then John felt something stroking his calf. He grinned and stroked back. He couldn't remember ever playing footsie in his life, but then again, there were a lot of things he hadn't done before he'd met Rodney.

The waiter set down some bread and their drinks.

"No citrus?" Rodney asked.

"No, sir," the waiter said, looking as if he would have liked to put some in just for Rodney.

They talked a bit about the current events on Earth, but John could feel Rodney's growing impatience.

"What on Earth is taking them so long? It's not as if this is a high class restaurant."

The couple at the next table turned and glared at Rodney.

"This isn't the mess hall, Rodney. They actually prepare what you ordered," John pointed out.

"Okay fine. They can do that, but do they have to hunt down the animals and grow the wheat first?"

John sighed. He was beginning to have second thoughts about taking Rodney out.

Five minutes later Rodney began jotting down notes on his napkin. John let him, because at least it meant he wasn't complaining.

Ten minutes after that he had filled his own napkin as well as the two that he'd stolen from the empty table next to them. When he reached over to take John's, John stopped him.

"Rodney. We're on vacation."

"Yes, we are. And precious minutes are ticking by, wasted with waiting instead of _having sex_." John flushed, because Rodney's stage whisper was anything but quiet. A few people were looking over to them; some of them seemed scandalized, others amused.

John was about to point out that they weren't that young anymore anyway when there was a sharp noise coming from the kitchen.

"That had better not be what I think it is," Rodney said ominously. When he spotted their waiter coming out of the kitchen empty-handed, he shouted loudly. "Hey!"

John covered his face with his hands.

"Tell me that wasn't our food," he heard Rodney say.

"I'm afraid it was. If you could wait just a bit longer."

"No, I _can't_ wait just a bit longer. Do I look like someone who has all the time in the world? Those people there might not care about their lifetime trickling by," Rodney said, making a vague gesture towards the other guests. "But I _do_."

John tried to shrink in his chair. At this point, he couldn't remember why he thought this would be a good idea. He could see the waiter's jaw clench and figured they were _this_ close to being asked to leave. "Rodney?" he asked carefully.

"What?" came the annoyed answer.

"These things happen. We're here to have a pleasant evening." Someone at one of the neighboring tables snorted.

"Okay. _Fine,_ " Rodney snapped, crossing his arms in front of him.

John stroked Rodney's calf with his foot, but it hardly lessened the scowl on Rodney's face. "Want my napkin?" he offered.

Rodney started grinning, although John could see that he was fighting it. "This is all your fault."

"It is," John agreed. The he added more quietly, "I'll make it up to you later." He accompanied the promise with a stroke further up Rodney's leg.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the best idea, because it only made Rodney want to leave more urgently. "We'll starve to death."

"You could have some of the bread," John suggested.

"I'm not here for the bread!" Rodney turned around, scanning the place for their waiter. When he found him, he snapped his fingers at him. The waiter glared at Rodney. "Yes, it's me."

The waiter came. "Sir," he ground out with very forced politeness.

"I'd like another drink, but only if it will arrive in this century. And is there any chance that our food will _ever_ come? We're approaching the point where it looks like it'd be faster to go back home to get something to eat. And believe me, 'home' is _very_ far away."

"I really hope so," the waiter muttered.

"What did you say?" Rodney asked, eyes blazing.

"I'm sure that your meal will be ready momentarily, sir."

"That's not what you said."

"Rodney." John tried to calm him down. He didn't exactly blame the waiter for cracking a bit there.

"You _heard_ what he said," Rodney turned on him.

"The food will be ready any moment now."

"Oh right. And you _believe_ him?"

"Rodney." John looked at him, pleading with his eyes.

" _I'll_ decide where we eat for the rest of our vacation."

"Gladly," John agreed.

Rodney sat stiffly at the table, tapping it with his fingers until the waiter came back.

"Your drink," he said leaning forward with his tray.

"Look at that. I got my order while I still remembered what it was. Oh, I'll need some more napkins."

John had a bad feeling the moment Rodney reached out for the napkins on the tray. He could practically hear Rodney's screech, before it actually made it out of his mouth. He was quick to react before Rodney could launch himself at the waiter for spilling the drink on him.

"Let me go!" Rodney ground out, but John held him firmly in his arms and dragged him to the restroom.

"He did that on purpose!" Rodney shouted, struggling free.

John looked at a guy who was washing his hands, then yanked Rodney into a stall by his wet shirt.

"Will you stop with the manhandling already," Rodney said, a bit more quiet—meaning it could only be heard through half the restaurant—but still very annoyed.

"You realize that you tipped the tray reaching for the napkins?" John ventured carefully after a little while.

"So? These are professionals, right? Although of course the fate of our food should have been enough proof that they can't even _handle the most simple job_." John moved his head away as Rodney shouted the last towards the door.

"I think I'm deaf now," John commented.

"Well, at least you're not wet."

John started unbuttoning the shirt to check if it was really that bad. Rodney grumbled and picked up a good handful of toilet paper. It seemed he hadn't exaggerated. The drink had gone right through his shirt and since he wasn't wearing anything underneath, Rodney's skin had gotten a nice treatment of his drink.

John leaned forward and licked at it.

"What are you doing?" It was the first time since, well, since they'd entered the restaurant, that Rodney hadn't sounded annoyed. John figured that was a good sign.

"Cleaning up," he said and moved the shirt further to the side, so that he could lick his way to Rodney's nipple.

"You're insane!" But it sounded breathless and not at all like a complaint. Rodney dropped the toilet paper and ran his hands into John's hair, holding him close, which John took to mean that he should continue rather than stop.

He licked away every trace of Rodney's drink, opening up the rest of the buttons on the shirt until he could part it. After he'd run his tongue over and around Rodney's nipples twice, he slowly nibbled and kissed his way down.

"The drink didn't—hmmm—get down that far," Rodney panted.

"Are you sure?" John asked between kisses. He didn't pause to wait for an answer though and, crouching down, continued on until he'd reached Rodney's pants.

He lifted his hand and slowly ran his knuckles over Rodney's hardening dick. His eyes never left Rodney's, and he very deliberately licked his lips. Rodney took a deep breath.

"I better check here too," John said.

Rodney groaned in answer, and John wasn't sure if it was in anticipation or a comment on John's 'excuse'. Not that it mattered. He slid Rodney's zipper down, putting pressure on Rodney's dick as he went, until Rodney's pants dropped to pool around his ankles.

John shifted to kneel when Rodney spoke up, "No, wait. Put some toilet paper down there. God knows what you could catch in this 'establishment'. And it's enough that my shirt is ruined."

John smiled and quickly spread the toilet paper that Rodney had dropped earlier. Then he knelt on it. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you."

Rodney smiled at him gratefully, and John felt a fondness for him that warmed him deep inside. He leaned his forehead against Rodney's belly, before kissing it.

"You were going to...check," Rodney reminded him, shifting forward in his tented boxers.

John smiled against Rodney's skin. He carefully pulled Rodney's cock through the opening and gave the head a kiss and then a quick lick, before taking Rodney fully into his mouth.

Rodney made a noise—that _Oh fuck this is so hot I'd like to be really loud but I shouldn't_ noise. Rodney's thighs tensed under John's hands, and he knew that Rodney wanted to move, wanted to push, but was trying to hold back.

John loved it when Rodney got like this, when _he_ drove Rodney to this point, where he forgot everything except wanting, wanting, wanting.

He moved his hands to Rodney's ass, slipping them up his boxers, encouraging Rodney to go for it.

"Oh God," Rodney said. John could feel him stroking his hair and after another moment, Rodney started pushing into John's waiting mouth.

John gladly took it. He tightened his lips around Rodney's shaft and licked the head every time he withdrew.

The noises were back, hardly suppressed now, turning into a groan every time Rodney thrust deep into his mouth, fucking it.

John let his hands wander, parting Rodney's cheeks and moving his fingers down until he found Rodney's hole. He rubbed over and around it, making a purring noise on Rodney's next stroke in and then it was over.

"John!" It wasn't very loud, but came from deep within Rodney as he shuddered his release down John's throat.

John swallowed what he could, and when Rodney pulled away, he spat the rest into the toilet, before going back to lick Rodney's softening dick clean.

Rodney made a noise that sounded like "Ngnh", but he didn't seem displeased, so John finished, gave Rodney's dick another kiss, tucked it back in, pulled his pants up and redid Rodney's zipper. Then he got up, biting his lips as his knees let him feel their distress. He started on Rodney's shirt buttons, focusing on his trembling fingers, until Rodney was more or less presentable again.

He quickly picked up the toilet paper on which he'd knelt, put it in the toilet and flushed it away. When he turned back, Rodney pulled him into a heated kiss, tongue digging deep as if he wanted to taste himself through John.

John didn't do much more than let it happen, but when Rodney's hand wandered downwards, John stopped it.

Rodney pulled back and raised an eyebrow.

John leaned in and whispered heatedly into his ear. "I want to fuck you when we get back to the hotel."

Rodney groaned. "Are you sure you can wait?"

John nodded, licking the shell of Rodney's ear. "I want you to come while I'm fucking you."

Rodney snorted. "Good luck with that. You do remember that we're not 17 anymore?"

"Yes, I do. I'll wait as long as I have to."

Rodney quickly kissed him again. John cupped his face, then stepped back and opened the door of the stall.

Thankfully, there didn't seem to be anyone else in the restroom. They quickly washed their hands, grinning at one another in the mirror.

When they stepped outside, a man was waiting. He flushed and looked away, before rushing into the restroom past them. They smiled at each other and walked back to their table holding hands.

They had hardly taken their seats, when the waiter arrived with another drink.

"Sir, I'm very sorry for—" To John he actually sounded as if he meant it. Rodney didn't seem to be interested though.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Is this my drink?"

"Yes, sir." 

"Thank you."

The waiter carefully placed the drink in front of Rodney, along with a good dozen of napkins. "Your food will—"

"Arrive any moment now, I know. Don't worry," Rodney said, smiling at John. "Take your time."


End file.
